


Recitativo

by Hay_Bails (Prehensilizing)



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: C137cest, Don Giovanni - Freeform, Gen, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, T.S. Eliot - Freeform, Voiceplay, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:12:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12501796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prehensilizing/pseuds/Hay_Bails
Summary: Of course Rick knows French and Italian.Kinktober drabble.





	Recitativo

            "J'avais s-sept ans," Rick growled in a low husky voice, "elle était plus petite."

            "O-oh _geez,_ Rick." Morty squirmed.

            Rick smelled primarily of aftershave, and secondarily of sweat and alcohol. His warm breath tickled the back of Morty's neck as he pulled the boy impossibly closer, his grandson's back now flush to the subtle curvature of his own chest.

            Morty had no idea that Rick spoke French. It was hot.

            "Elle etait toute mouill _ée_ ," the old man continued conversationally, brushing his fingertips along the tented zipper of Morty's jeans, "je lui ai donné de-eugh primavères."

            Rick's skilled fingers lazily traced the outline of Morty's aching erection.

            " _Oh,"_ Morty moaned, writhing on his grandfather's lap. "Fuck Rick, what-"

            Rick pressed his palm into the front of Morty's jeans.

            Morty would have yelled in pleasure, had Rick not chosen that precise moment to insert two fingers of his unoccupied hand into the space between Morty's lips. Morty groaned, doing his best not to bite down.

            "Sappi che io sono innamorato di una b-bella dama," Rick continued relentlessly, now in Italian. Of course he knew Italian. "E son cer to che m'ama."

            What really got Morty riled up was that when Rick switched between languages, he didn't even try to affect an accent. He just sounded like plain old Rick. It wasn't that he was pronouncing the words wrong, exactly - though of course Morty would have no clue if that was the case. No, it was just that he was speaking comfortably. Seductively.

            Morty's moan vibrated against Rick's fingers. Rick slid them back and forth, in and out along the boy's tongue.

            "Voi non siete fatta per esser paesana," Rick intoned, his lips brushing the skin of Morty's neck. He pressed his mouth to the warm, velvet spot just below Morty's ear, inhaling through his nose.

            "Un'altra sorte vi procuran quegli occhi bricconcelli," he whispered, grazing the boy's earlobe with his teeth. Morty shivered. He had no idea what Rick was saying. He realized he didn't really care.

            "Quei labbretti sì belli," Rick breathed, inserting a third finger into Morty's mouth. Morty groaned.

            "Quelle ditucce candide e odorose." The hand palming Morty's erection lifted away slightly, and Morty almost sobbed at the loss of sensation. He scrabbled for purchase, gripping Rick's hand in both of his own. He pressed the offending palm downward, forcing Rick to continue his ministrations. Rick smirked against the gooseflesh on his neck. He rewarded the boy with a light squeeze.

            "Parmi toccar giuncata," Rick muttered, stroking up and down through the fabric of Morty's jeans as Morty squirmed deliciously on his lap, "e fiutar rose." He inhaled deeply, and breathed a slow, deliberate stream of air along the tensed muscle of Morty's neck.

            Morty's tongue lapped involuntarily at Rick's fingers. "Mm-ohhh," he moaned, thrusting his hips forward into Rick's cupped hand.

            "Che non voreste?" Rick asked, pulling his fingers from Morty's mouth. He held the boy's lower lip down with the pad of his thumb for a moment before letting go, allowing him to answer.

            "Rick- ah-"

            "Orsù, n-non perdiam tempo," Rick growled against his grandsons neck. He continued to palm Morty through the thick, unrelenting fabric of his jeans.

            "Oh fuck Rick I-"

            "In questo istante-"

            " _Fuck-"_

            "Io ti voglio sposar."

            "Oh god Rick I'm gonna-"

            "Vieni, mio bel diletto." Rick growled against Morty's throbbing pulse.

            "Oh _god_ I-" Morty started, without finishing the thought. His mouth hung open mutely as he came, fluently and suddenly, into his pants. The thick liquid soaked through his cotton underwear, then his denim jeans, and Rick's fingers slid slickly across the fabric once or twice, teasing the boy, before coming to a halt.

            "R-Rick," Morty panted. "W-what was... _that?"_

            Rick said nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Rick is reciting text from T.S. Eliot's 'Dans le Restaurant' and Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's 'Don Giovanni.'


End file.
